


In The Back Of My Mind

by flipflop_diva



Series: Remember Me [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, Missing Scene, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha-centric, Repressed Memories, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: It was too familiar, though. The metal arm. The cold glint in his eye when he looked at her. The sound of the bullet hanging in the air. And then the pain. So much pain. She had been here before.(Part 1 of 3. Set during The Winter Soldier.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nezumimurasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nezumimurasaki/gifts).



> Written for Nezumimurasaki as part of Purim Fest 2017. I hope you enjoy!

Her shoulder was aching. Pain coursed through her body. She fought to stay conscious. Fought to stay in the present. She had been through worse. She had survived so much worse. This was nothing she couldn’t handle. 

It was too familiar, though. The metal arm. The cold glint in his eye when he looked at her. The sound of the bullet hanging in the air. And then the pain. So much pain.

She had been here before.

But no. This time was different. This time she wasn’t alone. This time she wasn’t bleeding out on a sandy ground, the man she was supposed to be protecting dead beside her. This time she wasn’t fighting for consciousness, reliving every horrible thing she had ever done.

This time she had to be stronger. This time she couldn’t just wait to see if death would come. This time she had to keep going. For Steve. Who was in pain. More pain than she was in. She had to be strong for him. She had to help him. She had to stop the man with the metal arm. She had to force back the inkling of memories that she could feel pulsing against the back of her eyes, threatening to come to the forefront.

She couldn’t let them come. Not now. Not ever. She had to keep them back. She had spent too long, too many years, learning how to keep those memories where they belonged. She couldn’t let them out. They would overtake her. They would be too much.

She had to keep them back, had to keep them where they belonged. She had to help Steve.

She heard Sam next to her, his voice fainter than it should be. “If we don’t get her to a doctor, she’s going to bleed out.”

She heard a zap, vaguely registered that Maria Hill was there, that they were safe. Time felt like it had slowed down, like it was an eternity before someone was pressing something against her shoulder, before arms were guiding her out of the truck and into another van.

She kept replaying it, over and over. The look in his eye, the glint of his arm, the hiss of the bullet. It was so familiar. 

But no. She had to stop thinking about it. She had to be strong. For Steve. She couldn’t give in to the memories. There was too much happening, too much she needed to be present for.

But the memory was still there. It wouldn’t go away. She could feel it. It was trying to break free. 

But it wasn’t the memory of that windy day in the desert. It wasn’t the memory of lying there thinking she was going to die.

It was something different. Something earlier.

She knew it.

•••

She couldn’t sleep. She had tried, but it hadn’t work. Instead she was standing outside, looking down at the Potomac. Tomorrow, they were going to take down Hydra. Tomorrow they were going to save the world.

It was what she should have been thinking about, what she should have been focused on. But she wasn’t.

It wasn’t like her not to be focused, not to be able to block out everything else around her, but something had happened. When the bullet had gone through her shoulder. When the Winter Soldier had met her eyes. When his metal arm had grabbed her so tightly it left bruises.

She was so caught up in the memory, she almost missed the sound of footsteps approaching her.

Steve stopped beside her. He looked tired. Determined, though. He nodded at her.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not even a little.” She smiled back at him. “I’m guessing the same for you.”

“I keep going over tomorrow.”

“Bucky?” she asked. The word felt weird coming out of her mouth, almost like it was wrong, like it should have been something else. That stirring of something that had been bothering her all night pushed against her again. She rubbed her head, like that would push it away.

Steve noticed, frowned at her. “You okay?” he said.

“Yeah,” she answered. “It’s nothing. I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

Steve sighed, ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t kill him,” he said. “Bucky.”

“I know.”

“They all think I should.” He looked at her. “Do you?”

“I think you have to do what’s best for you.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess so.”

•••

She still couldn’t sleep. The cot was uncomfortable, the pillow too hard. But she had slept on worse. Her shoulder ached, the pain killers she refused to take beside her on the little table. She had to be sharp for the morning, she had to be aware.

But it wasn’t the pain that was the problem. It was something else. Something that was still pushing against the inside of her mind, refusing to go away.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it, thinking about _him_. Steve’s friend. Steve’s best friend. The Winter Soldier. Bucky.

He had shot her today. He had shot her before. In Odessa.

But there was more. She could feel it. It was a weight behind her eyes, begging her to remember, but she couldn’t.

She slid out of bed, crept down the hall and into the bathroom. Stood in front of the mirror. She lifted her shirt, let the fingers of her left hand skim across the scar that stood out on her belly. The scar he gave her, the first time she met him.

But no. She frowned. That was wrong. She could feel it. She couldn’t remember details, but she could feel it. 

The metal arm. The cold glint in his eye.

His name was James. She’d called him James. He called her Natalia.

She stared at herself in the mirror, the scar on her stomach bright in the dim light of the bathroom.

She thought maybe she was making it up, but somewhere deep inside she knew she wasn’t.

She knew him.

She knew Bucky.


End file.
